


a rising tide like an hour glass

by goreallegore



Series: the edges of our fears [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Maze Runner AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:35:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreallegore/pseuds/goreallegore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry climbs over him, his legs slotting on either sides of Niall, his body flush against Niall’s. He nibbles on Niall’s lowerlip, then licks the seam of his mouth and causes him to elicit a soft - needy - moan. <em>No feelings in the Glade</em>, Niall remembers. Or, he doesn’t. It’s all kind of a haze to be honest.</p>
<p>Or; Niall and Harry are runners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a rising tide like an hour glass

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOOOOO. This is 3.8k of a maze runner au for THE LOVE OF MY LIFE TAYLOR !!! happy birthday, my love. i hope you enjoy this and it is to your liking.

Niall wakes up to the noise of someone screaming, his head hitting the plenty low tree branch - he must’ve moved around in his sleep, closer to the tree. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, blearily looking for the source of the painful wails and spots the new kid - the one with the mop of curls turning over again and again under his blanket. They’d offered him the best of their resources because he’d seemed out of sorts at the time, the maze still new to him, 

 

Niall picks himself off the ground, quietly padding towards the stranger and all the while making sure he doesn’t wake anyone else up. On his way he blindly grabs at a jacket discarded near the edge of his tent and puts it on, zipping it up so the wind doesn’t bite at his chest. Once he’s standing next to the boy he sees the perturbed expression on the boy’s face, his brows knits together, a line of sweat trickling his forehead, a staircase of wrinkles to go along with it. A punch of guilt makes him bend down, slipping on his knees and slightly shaking the boy out of whatever nightmare he’d been having. 

 

Expectedly so, the kid jerks awake, his eyes wide and and his mouth hanging open, so Niall does what he thinks is best and reaches for the pail of water sitting outside the boy’s tent. Pours a cup of water and drags it over, “Reckon, you had a nightmare?”

 

Harry, Niall thinks his name was, nods - graciously accepting the water and gulping it down in less than a hummingbird flutter, and says, “thank you.” His voice is strained, heavy but tired, “I don’t remember anything and all the dreams are  _ so _ vivid.”

 

Niall feels it again, a hum of guilt for no reason whatsoever, “Happens to the best of us, mate. We all were pretty wrecked when we’d first arrived. Couldn’t even bring to walk about the fields or help the others.”

 

Harry doesn’t say anything, pushes his head down mumbling something to himself that Niall can’t quite catch. Niall figures that’s his cue to leave so he makes a move to let go when Harry reaches for his wrist, “I.”   
  


Niall waits, patient and curious. Harry blinks, once or twice, like he’s chewing around his words in his head, “would it be too much to ask of you to stay here? I know we have just met but.”

 

The howling Grievers cast a shroud over any other sound that might’ve come out of Harry’s mouth alerting him to the dangers Niall’s gotten accustomed to for the past few - he isn’t sure, time isn’t exactly mapped out in the Glade like you’d want it to be. Been many months; far too many. 

 

He takes off his jacket throwing it towards their feet, the clothing landing with a  _ plonk _ on the solid ground, and nudges Harry to make space for him which he dutifully does so. Niall fits in the sleeping bag with Harry’s back touching his. The growls die down and the whistling wind fills the air again, and somewhere along the way he hears a soft whisper, “ _ Thank you _ .”   
  


Niall sleeps okay that night. That’s the first time he’s been able to say that.

 

Morning comes by with a loud thud of wooden logs falling to the ground near the base they’ve set up, there is a clatter of pots and pans more than likely from people assembling in a line to get food, jolting Niall out of his heavy sleep. He opens his eyes to a pair of boots, he arches his head up to catch a glimpse of who it is, “Morning, sunshine.”

 

Niall gets up immediately, running a hand through his hair and looking over his shoulder, Harry still fast asleep, “Morning.”   
  


“No feelings in the Glade,” Liam sing-songs, before moving the tarp out of the way and letting himself out of the small tent. Niall pinches the bridge of his nose, tired. “No feelings in the Glade,” he reminds himself. 

 

Once he’s washed up and has eaten his ration of the breakfast provided he walks over to the doors where the rest of the Gladers are getting ready, they’re tightening the harness around their chest when he greets them, “Louis’ not going?”

 

Liam’s crouching down to tie the laces of his shoes, his gear already on, “Tommo is still recovering from last time. Only me and Luke for today.”

 

Niall could fuss about how he wants to but he knows that Liam wouldn’t let him, would remind him his knee injury has still not healed, so he stays quiet. They’re about ready to head off, the doors to the maze widening open, when Harry runs over to them, “Deo told me you’re runners.”

 

Liam narrows his eyes, still wary of Harry for some odd reason, “and what is it to you?”

 

“I’d like to run with you.” he tests, his hands balled up into fists hanging off to the sides and Niall can hear his heart pick up. Last time a rookie ran into the Maze they didn’t make it out alive. Last time he ran the Maze the rookie died cause of Niall. He tries to reach out to Harry to tell him the idea is stupid and he doesn’t want that, but Liam’s already saying, “No. You’re not trained nor equipped it’d be like walking to your death which I don’t allow.”

 

“I’m fast,” Harry protests, walking away from Niall’s perimeter of reach, his foot scudding against the dirt making it graze under the sole of his shoes. “I can outrun you,” he challenges with ease. 

 

The horn goes off telling the Gladers to start running, and for the first time since they’ve arrived, Liam acquiesces, “Ok, then run.”

 

Liam and Luke lead and Harry trails after them, his limbs running a flash past the group of people who play the sport of spectators every time the boys run and Niall can feel his heart being tethered across the massive walls that are the proof of the cage they’re trapped in. 

 

He makes his way back to camp, helping the children with cleaning the clothes and setting up the pit for the fire for the night, once he’s done giving a check over the daily duties and making sure everyone is doing what they’re supposed to, he makes his way to Louis’ tent, ducking inside the dimly lighted space and dropping down to sit near his head, his body curled over to the other side; his eyes closed with an even beat of breathing. 

 

He plucks out the piece of wood he’d found outside from his pocket and carves it out, making the edge smoother into a thumb like shape careful of not getting any splinters. He sits there carving for hours, till the soft hues of twilight can be seen, a steady breeze picking up outside jostling the tent with each wave. “You’ve been here awhile, anything I should worry about?”

 

Louis is still facing the other way, stretching his limbs over the mound of blankets like a cat, a yawn escaping his lips, “There is a new kid. Got here yesterday around noon think you were still running then and he was pretty shaken.”   
  


“Doesn’t seem out of the ordinary,” Louis scratches his belly, running his hand over the crotch of his shorts and Niall averts his gaze. His tongue is dry from not having water all day, his lips cracked as he opens his mouth to speak again, “He went on a run today.”   
  


Louis’ entire body tenses up beside him, his hand still over the chub of his stomach, “What do you mean  _ he ran _ today? Liam let a rookie run?”

 

Niall doesn’t say anything for a bit. “They’re not back yet I’m guessing,” Niall adds, brushing off the thibble hanging off the carved flower. He places the miniature sculpture on top of Louis’ pillow, “He might be dead.”   
  


Louis reaches for Niall’s hand and Niall grabs it, they were the first few who got here, and since then Louis has been his best mate. A safe haven where he can come to when everyone else is annoying him or when Liam makes a rash decision - rare but still something that happens. 

 

A clamour drafting their way startles them, Louis throwing off the blankets and pulling on a jacket, and Niall steadying him to stand upright. Outside they see Liam and Luke carrying Harry back, blood marring his features making him indistinguishable but Niall knows its him. Louis gasps in horror at his side, joggling Niall to collect the injured boy and attend to him, which Niall does, taking Harry’s limping half-conscious body from Liam and Luke, sending a stern look Liam’s way. 

 

Liam calms down the other boys, hushing them when they don’t let go of their incessant chatter and explaining to them what happened, Niall catching the peeking start of it, “I know you all have questions but let this serve as a lesson to all…”

 

Niall shakes his head, putting Harry down on the make-do stretcher, which is essentially a table with a white cloth, and shuffles about gathering medical supplies, pulling gauze and antiseptic out of the drawers. Harry mumbles through his injured haze, “What’s going on?”   
  


“You fucking went and got yourself mounted by the Grievers. What the hell were you thinking?” Niall tries to stay calm but there is boiling anger rushing through his veins. 

 

Harry lifts his head a smidge, close to a grin on his face, “Was thinking could be a hero for you today like you were for me last night.”

 

Niall screws his eyes shut, evening out his breath, not being swayed by the words, “Did I gave you the impression I needed saving?”   
  


He rounds the table that Harry’s lain on, picking apart a washcloth and gently cleaning his wounds, “Not at all, but did make me want to do it anyway.”

 

“You aren’t going to be saving anyone if you get attacked by the Grievers every time you run,” Niall rebuts, sinking the cloth into a bucket of water and twisting it until it’s absent of blood. 

 

“Wait, every time?” Harry asks, baffled. Niall taps his shoulder to tell him not to move and he settles down, staying steady. 

 

“If Liam let you run once it means you run every time with the Gladers. That’s just how it goes and seeing that you lived through your first run without having past experience you’re bound to be good.”   
  


Harry studies Niall’s face or it’s what it looks like, his eyes trailing every feature, “You run.”   
  


“Used to,” Niall corrects him - leaving out the part he hasn’t in a year. 

 

“Teach me,” Harry demands, trying to get up but Niall pushes him down glaring at him. His wounds haven’t even been cleaned and the idiot is ready to jump back into the fire. 

 

“You’re the best, no? You are and you don’t run. Something big must’ve happened for you to stop,” and it’s like rambles whether Niall has anything to input or not and to be honest at this point Niall’s far from speaking. 

 

His pleas go unanswered and once Niall’s done patching up his last wound Liam walks through the doors, Andy and Luke by his side. “You got the farthest,” Liam says, and Niall flinches thinking of the maze, thing of the walls caving in on them and him being stuck there. Harry stays quiet so Liam continues, “How did you know where to go? Who told you?”

 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, rubbing his elbow. 

 

Liam sighs, flitting between Niall and Harry. “Starting tomorrow you’re on harvesting. If you need any help I’m sure Niall can show you around,” Liam orders, striding towards the door. 

 

“I am  _ faster _ than you,” Harry yips, getting off the table to his feet, his balance still wobbly. “I out ran you. You can’t possibly assign me to some farmer boy duties.”   
  


“Lucky for you, I just did.” And that is the end of discussion. 

 

-

 

Niall’s in Louis’ tent playing a round of blackjack he remembers learning from someone, the someone a distant memory he can’t really replay anymore, when Harry walks in with a wounded expression on his face. 

 

“Ah, you must be the new lad. Names Louis and you my friend?” Louis gestures him to take a seat but Harry turns him down. 

 

“I’m good, thank you. And my name is Harry,” he replies. 

 

He stands there awkwardly, nervously looking Niall’s way, “Is there something you need with my friend, Harry?”

 

Niall confused, glances and sees Harry’s skin radiating a soft pink, “I can’t sleep.”

“I’m fairly confused, what does that have to do with anything?” Louis prods, his cards now discarded on the ground and shoulders hunched. 

 

Niall forgoes his hand too, standing up to stand beside Harry, “I’m going to go I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

 

Louis skeptically waves him goodbye, his clear blue eyes screaming  _ be careful _ as Niall exits the tent. They’re met with silence on their way back to Harry’s sleeping bag, the stretch of the starry sky above them shining, the dewy grass soppy beneath their feet. Harry gets in first and Niall after him, but this time his chest facing Harry’s back and somewhere into the wee hours of the night he says, “alright, I’ll train you.”

 

Harry has terrible aim, Niall learns. The man can’t even throw a spear straight into the trunk of the tree without harming a bypasser, he’s also extremely clumsy - falling over his own two feet numerous times. But, he can run. That’s one thing he can do better than anyone, well, not Tommo. Niall figures, if he can manage to teach the kid how to aim short-range he’d consider it a crucial win on his part so they spend the next few days focusing on doing so. Ducking away when no one’s looking and going to the edge of their settlement and practicing his throwing technique. At least if he faces the Grievers he can defend himself. 

 

“I think this is pointless,” Harry complains for the 100th time for the day. “I think instead of wasting these beautifully carved spearheads by your magnificent hands -”

 

“Do you ever stop with that?” Niall interrupts. But obviously Harry isn’t deterred, “Of course, not. And as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me is that you should tell me how the maze works.”

 

“You’ve been farther than anyone else I can’t tell you anything you don’t know,” Niall supplies, picking up another arrowhead from the ground and laying it in Harry’s palm. They’re standing dangerously close, enough from where Niall can smell the musky scent Harry’s body is wafting. Harry tilts his head, a smile stretching his plump lips, “You’re a horrible liar, my friend.”

 

“I happen to know that you’ve been the farthest out of everyone. Now the question is why you’re keeping a secret from everyone else?” Harry is staring at him now and it’s not intimidating. He’s not being interrogated for something wrong he might’ve done but instead it feels like it’s someone saying that it’s okay to let me know, I’ll share your burdens with you if you let me. Or, Niall’s just letting the new kid get to his head. 

 

“I haven’t ran in a year, I have nothing,” Niall offers, turning over Harry’s hand and cupping over his grip. “Throw.”   
  


Harry hits the mark without looking. “Now, tell me, what are you hiding?”

 

\--

 

Two weeks later, Harry asks Liam to let him run again and to no one’s surprise he agrees to it. Since last time the word had gotten around about Harry’s counter with the Griever and how he runs the fastest out of the able Gladers, but now that Louis is back on his feet Niall could say the story is different. Like always, Liam, and Niall, are assembled outside the door of the Maze waiting for it to open as the Gladers get ready to run. Their primary job being running as far as they can to see if they can find a way out of this forsaken prison. 

 

Today, Harry, Louis, Andy and Kenny, are running. 

 

“You lot know the drill. Go in as far as you can, beware of the monsters, and come back before the gates start to close,” Liam recites like a chant he’d learned since they arrived. Harry hops on his feet, adrenaline running through him, Niall guesses, “Harry.”   
  


“Now what?” he jests, Louis snickering by his side while Niall just rolls his eyes. He turns away to file the leftover weapons into a stack, not aware of the conversation going on behind him, until he overhears, “Fine, then send him with me. Send Niall.”   
  


Niall stills. The ground shaking underneath him, the roaring of the gate opening in front of him  beckoning their doom, and he hears Liam say now, “Kenny, give your harness to Niall. If he can train a newbie he sure as hell can run himself as well.”   
  


Louis squawks, walking past Harry towards Liam, the crackling of the rubble falling, the grinding of rock against rock steadily increasing behind them, “What the fuck, Liam? We agreed Niall  _ doesn’t _ run.”

 

Liam looks between Niall and Louis, Niall still stumped to where he is standing while Kenny is holding the harness for him to take, and then he raises his brow at him, “You will run, right?”

 

“Yeah,” he croaks, hurriedly grasping onto the harness and pulling it over his head, securing his chest. 

 

They assume formation, the familiar cries filling Niall’s senses again, the gust of wind coming from the doors welcoming them, and Harry coming to his side, “Remember, if  _ they’re _ too close there isn’t any point in yelling.”

 

And they run. 

 

The course isn’t how he remembers but he already knows that. He knows that the Maze changes every night, twisting and turning and opening new paths for them to run, but never giving them a chance to get out. Niall knows that. The others do too, but what they don’t know is that the Maze has an end, he’s seen it. But there’s no way out. 

 

He tightens his grip around the knife, running left, then right, left again until he sees the unchanging point. It’s a den, the only place in the Maze that doesn’t changes and he never figured out why, so he figures now a good time as any. The sole of his shoes scrape the hard ground, the small rocks rubbing against his foot, but he tries to remain as quiet as possible, taking every step carefully. 

 

The roof of the cave has water dripping from it which is weird knowing the Maze doesn’t have a river or lake to sustain it - the grievers are robots, not actually living nor breathing, hence, they don’t need it either. He’s only made a little ways into the cave when he hears it, a low growl; a warning bell. 

 

And then it pounces on him out of nowhere, the creature resembling a tarantula with eight legs and pincers, one of which digs into his arm, making him cry. He pulls out the dagger and uses his left hand to slash the pincer, crab-crawling away from the creature when an arm pulls him up, “Told you not to yell.”

 

Niall grimaces, his right arm bleeding onto Harry’s shirt, “Why?”

 

“Talk later. Right now help me kill this thing,” and that’s exactly what Niall does. The creature hisses, diving in their direction, but Harry blocks with his spear. Meanwhile, Niall tears a piece of his shirt and tightly ties it around his arm. Once he’s dealt with his wound he goes by Harry’s side, both boys driving it into the wall, aiming at the pincers of the Griever, nearly chopping of all of them, except one. The creature tries to aim it at them, but Niall cuts it off while Harry stabs it’s abdomen with his spear. 

 

They heave in it’s demise, the yelps loud and shrill, “What way?”

 

That’s when they hear it. The doors have started closing. Niall and Harry exchange concerned looks, running out of the den to collect the others, thankfully, they spot Louis in time, “Where are the rest?”   
  


Louis swallows, looking at Niall’s wound and cupping the nape of his neck,  “They made it out. The doors started closing early and they hadn't made it far but I sought out to look for you lot.”   
  


“We need to get out of here before the doors close,” Niall suggests, and the other two agree. However, once they start heading towards the entrance they hear another sound, large thuds, and that’s when Niall realizes it’s the rest of them. The  _ monsters _ . 

 

A big one, twice as big as the last one, catches up to them and Niall tries to hold it off, while Louis runs through the last door, it inching closer and closer with every second.

 

“LEAVE,” he yells at Harry but the boy doesn’t give in. Resolutely stands his ground, “I told you. If you get to be a hero so do I.”

 

Niall can hear the faint calls in the back, Louis’ distinct voice calling out his name, today isn’t the day he decides. He grabs a hold of Harry’s hand, “Do exactly what  _ I tell you _ .”

 

The Griever scuttles towards them, fast on its feet, and just as he’s closing in, Niall and and Harry make a run for it. “Fast, run fast!” Niall keeps saying, and they do. They run faster than Niall ever has, his lungs expanding with air as the walls forcefully try to cave in on them, the monster hot on their heels. And right before they pass the entrance of the gate the Griever still behind them, the walls shut close squishing it in between, the boys rolling onto the dirt. 

 

Niall coughs on grass, Harry opposite to him looking fond, “You did it.”

 

“We did it,” the pain of his bleeding arm comes in like a stinging punch and he rightfully passes out, Harry’s gravelly voice being the last thing he hears. 

 

He wakes up in his tent, the oil lamp lighting it minutely, Harry pressed to side with his head help up on the heel of his palm, “Hello, there.”

 

Niall lazily smiles at him, raising his good arm, and brushing his fingers along Harry’s jaw, “You’re ok.”

 

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward, his lips hovering dangerously close to Niall’s. “Can I?”

 

Niall pulls his head up, diminishing the taunting distance between them, brushing his chapped lips to Harry’s soft one’s. He’s never kissed someone, doesn’t even last remembers when he felt this way, this pounding beat of his heart that wasn’t due to a run, nor due to the fear of death - of solitude. But this pounding being natural, innocent. Niall doesn’t remember feeling anything other than fear. 

 

Harry climbs over him, his legs slotting on either sides of Niall, his body flush against Niall’s. He nibbles on Niall’s lowerlip, then licks the seam of his mouth and causes him to elicit a soft - needy - moan.  _ No feelings in the Glade _ , Niall remembers. Or, he doesn’t. It’s all kind of a haze to be honest. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me @ niallohmighty.tumblr.com / comments, kudos and all that jazz


End file.
